The Man Who Was Not Tom Keen
by Evey Edge
Summary: Tom Keen's POV starting with episode 1x15 (The Judge) and continuing to the end of S1 . Disclaimer:The majority of the dialogue and characters belong to NBC, not me. The story focuses on my interpretation of Tom's thoughts throughout the episodes.*Warning* I'm on the increasingly unpopular Team Tom Bond. Tom/Liz.
1. The Judge

_I, Thomas Vincent Keen, do take thee Elizabeth Laura Scott, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part._

Tom's wedding vows echoed in his memory as he sat in the bar holding his drink and considering the metal band he wore on his left hand. How could something so small feel so heavy? He examined the gold circle that symbolized his commitment to his wife...although technically Liz wasn't really his wife. She was Thomas Vincent Keen's wife, and Thomas Vincent Keen did not exist, except perhaps as a dead newborn buried thirty years ago in some distant cemetery. He downed his scotch in a single swallow.

Tom Keen didn't drink scotch. Tom Keen drank beer. Then again Tom Keen had never before been in a situation that called for hard liquor. Tom Keen needed the hard stuff tonight. His marriage was teetering on the brink and he was about to give it that final nudge over the edge and into the abyss. It was strange to think of "Tom Keen" as someone else, yet tonight it felt appropriate. Tonight he wanted to be a completely separate entity from the person he'd been playing for over two years. The trouble was he wasn't sure if that was possible any more. If "Tom Keen" didn't exist, if he wasn't "Tom Keen", then why was he in such despair?

Jolene's words returned to the forefront of his mind, "I think people cheat because they are miserable in their marriages." She seemed to aim those words directly at him, and they had hit their mark. He WAS miserable in his marriage, though perhaps not for the reasons Jolene suspected.

Berlin hadn't made contact in two years, ever since Angel Station. At first he was grateful, it made his job easier, not having to manufacture covers and alibis, and he could focus all his energy on being Tom Keen. He'd known the challenges he would face when he accepted the assignment, the complete emersion into a character. He knew the scrutiny he would undergo and the necessity of never breaking cover. The one thing he'd never anticipated how much he'd like it. He liked walking the dog. He liked having friends made him soup when he was sick. He liked slow Sundays doing crossword puzzles and lounging around in his pajamas until noon. He liked smelling Liz's lavender scented hair as he held her in his arms every night. He'd liked so many things about Tom Keen's life, which was the problem. Being Tom Keen had stopped feeling like a duty. It had stopped feeling like a job. He'd enjoyed it, he'd LET himself enjoy it and that was his terrible mistake.

Months passed without a word from his employer and soon his life before Liz felt like a bad dream. At times he could almost convince himself that there was no Berlin, that he'd always been Tom Keen, and that Liz was just one of a hundred FBI agents, no different from the rest. That illusion had been shattered the helicopters arrived outside their brownstone. The war was starting and he'd been caught completely unprepared. How unprepared he was became abundantly clear that night when a terrorist surprised him inside his own home.

One minute he'd been tying balloons to chairs and arranging champagne glasses and the next he was being held at gunpoint by an ailing bald psychopath. The next few hours were a fog of pain and fear. He remembered seeing Liz's face as he'd drifted in and out of focus, knowing she was in danger and not being able to do a thing to protect her. Even after he'd recovered from his stab wound, he couldn't shake that feeling of utter helplessness.

He'd felt a change in his marriage when he'd first returned from the hospital. Liz had pulled ever so slightly away from him. At first he thought it was guilt, then he suspected it was the stress of her new job. Even after he'd caught her scribbling the date of their Boston trip in her notepad it didn't connect that she had begun to suspect him. It wasn't until he was checking their credit card statements that he'd realized Liz had put down new carpeting while he was in the hospital. She'd found the box. Fortunately he had been prepared. The possibly of Liz finding his box had always concerned him so he'd been through. He made a deal with Gina before the Angel Station hit that he'd fulfill the contract and let her keep the lion's share of fee if she provided him with money that could be traced back to Reddington. The other condition of their agreement had been that if she was ever caught and questioned about the hit, she would take the fall for him. Gina had apparently held up her end of the deal and Tom had avoided being locked away from the rest of his life.

The worst of it hadn't been the interrogations, it had been during the week after, when he'd caught Liz looking at paint swabs in the dining room. She'd playfully jumped on his back and apologized again for doubting him. "They made me believe you were a monster," she had confessed and it had felt like a kick to the gut. A monster. Of course that was how she'd see him, if she knew the truth. She would never forgive him. He may have been granted a reprieve, but it was just a matter of time before the walls closed in. He'd been further reminded of that fact when he'd gone to Nebraska and come face to face with one of the most dangerous criminals in the world.

He hadn't been able to stop himself from double taking when he'd glanced up at the man who'd politely asked to sit beside him and found himself looking at the "concierge of crime". He'd only ever seen the surveillance photos, and read the dossiers. To encounter him in person, in Nebraska of all places was disorienting to say the least. Fortunately habit kicked in and he managed to make small talk with the man who for all he knew had a sniper rifle trained on him from the hospital roof.

As Reddington spoke of a friend that he'd lost that morning, Tom had known the international criminal was talking about Sam. Reddington had gone to visit Liz's adoptive father. Why? Tom's investigations had uncovered that Red and Sam had know each other for at least twenty years, and that Reddington had been helping pay for Liz's upkeep. Was Reddington's visit truly motived by a desire to see a sick friend? Tom found it a little too coincidental that Sam had apparently died within hours of his visit.

Tom had decided to probe a little, talking about how devastated Liz was going to be by the loss of her father. To his surprised he'd gotten a reaction, some combination of anger and guilt. Reddington had spoken of Liz's father always watching over her, and though the words could easily have been spiritual platitudes, it quickly became apparent that Tom was being threatened with a grisly fate if any harm should befall Liz. Reddington had then departed leaving Tom's mind swarming with unanswered questions. The coffee cup Reddington had left behind gave him had answered one of them. Raymond Reddington was Liz's biological father.

According to to official records Reddington had only one daughter, a ten year old, who no one had seen since 1990, the same year Liz had been adopted by Sam. Liz had been four years old at time. Was Liz illegitimate or the records of her existence been buried like so much of Reddington's history. The burn on Liz's arm added to the mystery. Liz had once confessed that when she was fourteen Sam had held her down and burn her wrist, crying the whole time, insisting he was protecting her. Tom had recognized the symbol from the moment he'd laid eyes on it. It was the symbol of Berlin. Liz life was intertwined with two of the most dangerous men in the world.

The danger of her position in this war became clear the day Tom had called Liz at work and her phone was answered by a man who claimed he was about to shoot her in the head. It had been over an hour of sitting frozen before Liz had miraculously come through their front door, mostly unharmed. He'd pulled her to him, so glad she was alive, so glad that it was over. But it hadn't been over, not really. "I got caught up in something…" Liz had told him helplessly.

Tom was losing Liz, little by little. Reddington was stealing their evenings, their tranquility, and worst of all Liz's faith in their life together. Reddington had taken his domestic bliss and turned it into a nightmare. Six months ago Tom Keen was a happily married man with a baby on the way. Now he was ignoring Liz's calls and lamenting the absence of a child he'd never even held. It killed that he had been so close. He'd had the passports and the money ready. If Reddington had just waited six more months, he, Liz and their baby could have been long gone, a world away from this mess. Now that dream was never going to happen. Liz was right, he had doubts. A year ago, he'd been so certain, so sure of his choice, dangerous though it was. Now...

If he had just done his job and maintained his distance none of this would be happening. He wouldn't feel this unbearable ache when he thought of all of things he'd lost. He wouldn't have lost anything at all, because he would have remembered that it was never his to begin with. Now he just wanted to forget, to disappear into the bottom of a glass, or better still into the arms of the woman waiting for him upstairs.

Why shouldn't he take Jolene up on her offer? She was beautiful and she wanted him and there would be no strings attached. Maybe it was just the reminder that he needed. The wake-up call that at the end of the day, he wasn't Tom Keen. He had never promised Liz his fidelity. She had never sworn him hers. What difference would it make if he escaped Tom Keen's hell for a few hours? He could make a choice, here and now, not as Tom Keen, but as himself. What did he want? He closed his eyes and waited for an answer to come. Come it did.

Liz. Despite everything that had happened, despite the pain, the danger,and the knowledge that one way or another he would lose her, he still wanted Liz. It wasn't a happy realization, but it did make things simple. He would go apologize to Jolene and then he would return to his room and call Tom Keen's wife. He would find a way fix what was broken and continue to protect Liz, because although he wasn't Tom Keen, they did love the same woman.


	2. Mako Tanida Part 1

Tom's eyes opened to the welcome sight of his bedroom ceiling. Liz wasn't beside him, but her scent still lingered on the sheets. It was good to be home. The clock by the told him it was 10:21. Liz had let him sleep in. God knows he'd needed it. He hadn't sleep much since Jolene had revealed her true colors.

As he showered and dressed Tom pondered, as he had for the past week how he'd been so foolish. His instincts used to be a lot better. Worse than the fact he'd been blindsided was the purpose of Jolene's mission. They had come to test his loyalty to Liz, a loyalty he wasn't supposed to have, and like an idiot, he'd failed. He'd covered well, thankfully. He'd spun his refusal to cheat as evidence that he was still committed to Berlin. Sleeping with "Jolene" might have jeopardized his marriage and thus his mission. Whether or not "Jolene" bought it was hard to say.

The smell of coffee wafted up the stairs, momentarily distracting Tom from his worries. Italian roast, his favorite. He smiled. Despite everything he was glad to be home and that for the first time in a long time, he knew exactly who he was and what he wanted. Jolene could wait. For now he was going to enjoy a Saturday morning with his wife.

As Tom came down the hall he registered that there were two voices coming from the kitchen.

"So you guys have been here for…" No. It couldn't be, and yet a sinking feeling in his gut told him that it was...

"Only a year. Well we moved from up North. I was there for three years actually…" Liz looked up and smiled at him as he ented the kitchen. "Hey babe! You remember Jolene from the baby shower?" His eyes moved to the red head and resisted the overwhelming urge to smash her face into the table.

"Sure. You subbed for Mr. Skinner." What the hell was she doing here?

"It's Ted right? Tim! Sorry." She smiled guilelessly at him. He forced his lips into an answering grin while imagining how satisfying it would be to hear that crack of skull meeting wood.

"It's Tom. Fourth grade." What kind of game was Jolene playing here?

"We just bumped into each other outside. She's looking for a place in the neighborhood." Tom's mind reeled with this new information. Was Berlin setting Jolene up to be his new handler? His partner? His replacement?

"Great." He held his friendly façade in place. There was nothing to do now than weather this particular storm.

"I've got to get out of my apartment. Its super cramped. My fiancée and I love this neighborhood, so-Hey what did you think of Allison's show?" Tom felt his stomach tighten like a vise. He couldn't believe that she would screw with him like this.

"Who?" He threw as much of a threat as he dared into the look he shot Jolene. Hopefully she would take the hint and shut this little stunt of hers down.

"Allison. The exhibit at the Willard Street gallery." Tom wondered if Jolene had done any background research on him before she started her mission. Did she have any idea what he was capable of?

"You went to an art exhibit?" Forget Jolene, he needed to focus on Liz.

"Well…uh, calling it art might be a stretch." He'd been so stupid to even go to that show in the first place. It had been frustration more than anything else. Feeling Liz drift further and further from him had been torturous. He'd felt like punching walls, knowing Reddington was sucking her in and not being able to do a thing about it. Jolene had seemed so carefree, so separate from the lies upon lies that had been building between Liz and himself.

"It was amazing. Why didn't you bring your wife?" Tom's fantasy of broken noses and torn cartilage was rapidly morphing into something darker. Shooting her wouldn't be enough. He wanted to literally choke the life out of her.

"Yeah Tom, why didn't you bring your wife?" Here at least was a question he could pretty easily answer.

"For the record, I did invite you, but you were working. And, trust me you didn't miss anything." It was time to cut this little chat short before Jolene got it into her head to bring up the theme of the art exhibit, namely adultery, "I'd love to stay and talk art, but I should go grade some papers."

"I should get going as well." Maybe Jolene did have some sense of self-preservation after all.

"Let me give you my cell. If you're looking for a realtor my girlfriend Ellie is awesome." His wife and his almost lover were exchanging phone number. Perfect.

"Thank you. That is really cool of you. Good luck with your papers Tom, and thank you." Tom didn't exhale until the door had shut behind Jolene. Unfortunately the gust of air leaving his lungs did nothing to dispel the anger Jolene's invasion of his home had brought. He need to keep that anger in check. If Berlin had suspicions about him then he need to make sure Jolene allayed those fears. Jolene might also be useful getting answers about the dangers surrounding Liz.

"Something wrong, babe? You're awfully quiet." Liz's voice jerked him out of his silent revelry.

"No. Just thinking." He looked at Liz and took a moment to take in the strong beautiful woman that was his wife. He loved her so much and no one was going to take her away from him.

"About what?"

"You." He walked over, took the coffee cup from Liz's hand and kissed her, a long slow kiss. He savored every sensation, committing it all to memory. Nothing was going happen to her, Reddington, Berlin, and whoever else be damned. As Reddington had once said, she would be fine. He'd make sure of it.


	3. Mako Tanida Part 2

Tom turned off the engine to his car and sat for a moment with his hands on the steering wheel. He'd parked in front of McAdams, a local bar. After moving to DC and renting his workspace, Tom had scouted the area for businesses that had exits into back alleys. McAdams had been an ideal find. He could easily enter and slip out the backdoor without anyone watching from the street being the wiser. A surveillance team would think Tom had gone to grab a quick drink at the dingy establishment. If only that were really the case. The real reason he'd left school right after dismissal was to meet Jolene as she'd demanded.

If her behavior Saturday morning was any indication, she was not yet done testing him. If he couldn't convince her that he was still on mission, at best he'd get extracted and at worst he'd get a bullet in his head. Never of these were attractive alternatives. So what was he going to do about it?

Tom grabbed his rearview mirror and adjusted it so he was looking at his reflection. Tom Keen stared back at him. He could read the anxiety in his own eyes. Jolene would spot it in a heartbeat. That was unacceptable. Tom took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He been pushing down the spy within him for years, but that didn't mean that part of himself had disappeared. All Tom needed to do was coax it back to the surface. To do that he first needed to banished Tom Keen.

Forget the laughter of his students as they played at recess. Forget eating lasagna with the houseful of friends. Forget the love in Liz's eyes as she tenderly removed his glasses. Remember all the lies he'd told and the people he'd betrayed. Remember the cold feel of a gun in his hand. Remember all the blood and the death. Tom opened his eyes and saw a face he barely recognized anymore. This man had no fear, no hope, no love. This man was a killer.

Tom got out of the car and headed into McAdams. As he took his usual route through the bar and out the back, he considered how he was going to handle Jolene. She suspected the truth, but she had no real evidence. Tom had long been a supporter of the theory that the best defense was a good offense. He'd used it to divert suspicion when Liz had found his go box. He would go on the attack, press Jolene before she could press him. He saw the red head walking to meet him at the door of the warehouse. The memory of yesterday morning flashed through his mind and he didn't have to manufacture the anger in his voice.

"Hey what the hell is wrong with you?! You come to my house-" Jolene cut him off before he could finish the sentence.

"Calm down." Who the hell did this woman think she was? Who the hell did she think she was talking to?

"You're not my handler. I don't work for you."

"Berlin is having doubts." As well he should. Tom unlocked the door and stormed inside. It was time to go on the offensive.

"Yeah? Well Berlin doesn't have a damn clue. Do you have any idea how many candidates there were? They chose me. I've done everything they've asked. I married the woman for God's sake! I made her think my entire world revolves around her and now it's been two years and I've heard nothing!" Where exactly was this "doubt" coming from? Could it have been Gina? She'd been suspicious when he broken things off with her. Had she reported him?

"We sent word four months ago." He'd seen the signal to meet in the personal ads of the newspaper, but even if he'd wanted to respond he couldn't have.

"Four months ago I had to go dark because Reddington sent a psychopath with a knife into my house. He cut me up like a totem pole and because of that Liz finds my go bag, my passports. So what did I do? I get myself out. I convince her that the passports are fake, the cash isn't mine." Jolene, apparently bored by his explanation of how he'd out maneuvered one of the most dangerous men in the word, drifted over to a table, and was fingering his papers. "Don't touch that! I've had my hands full."

"Berlin wants information." They weren't the only ones. His days of flying blind were over. If he was going to stay ahead in this game, then he needed to know who all the players were.

"So do I. You know someone put cameras in that house. Someone was watching us and it wasn't the FBI, so why don't you tell me who the hell was-" Jolene cut him off yet again. Tom was really starting to hate that habit of hers.

"I can't help you unless you calm down." Tom bit back an appropriate response to Jolene's condescending bullshit. He needed to convince her he was in control. He could play the good soldier, if it got him what he wanted. He led Jolene over to the evidence board he'd been putting together for the past three years. Finding the timeline overlaps between Liz and Reddington hadn't been easy, but after three years patience he had been able to pin down interceptions going back decades.

"Best I can tell their paths have crossed at key moments in the past twenty years. Quantico. Baltimore. She doesn't know it and I can't prove it but Reddington's been funneling money through the adoptive father for years." Her adoption records were excel forgery all traced back to an agency that had completely burned down with all if its records. Tom had to wonder how the 1990 version of Raymond Reddington had managed to get his hands on those papers.

"What's this?" Jolene pointed to the floor plans he'd draw after being released from FBI custody.

"It's the black site from memory. It's the unit Keen works for." Hearing Garrick threaten Liz and being unable to do anything about it had been one of the most terrifying moments of his life. It wasn't an experience he was anxious to repeat. If there was another assault on the Post Office, Tom would be ready.

"What about the cases?" Otherwise known as the multitude of times Reddington had nearly gotten his wife killed. For all of Reddington's threats against him, the biggest danger to Liz's wellbeing was the man himself.

"You know I sat right next to Reddington once. In a hospital. I could have put a bullet in his head." If Berlin gave the order to take out Reddington, he'd carry it out in a heartbeat. Liz's life would become exponentially safer if the Number 4 on the most wanted list ceased to walk the earth.

"That wasn't your mission." No, of course not, death would be too simple. Whatever Berlin had planned for Reddington, it was be both elaborate and extremely unpleasant. He almost feel sorry for the man. Almost.

"Alright show and tell is over. I have detention at four." A lie. Tom had convinced Ellie to cover for him, telling her he needed to sneak out early to prepare a romantic evening with Liz. Being the good friend that she was, she'd agreed to help him out.

Tom's true plans involved Jolene, namely seeing what exactly she was up to when she wasn't crashing his Saturday morning breakfast. Everyone had secrets, especially spies. He would learn Jolene's, and use them to ensure she never got within a square mile of his wife ever again.


	4. Mako Tanida Part 3

Tom secured the prisoner to the chair while Jolene paced nervously in the background. For someone whose favorite words seem to be "calm down", she sure was jumpy. At first she'd been willing enough to follow his lead about how to handle her would be assailant, but now that the shock was wearing off she seemed to be having doubts. She wasn't the only one.

As he'd been stalking Jolene, he'd seen the cowboy hat-wearing mercenary follow her into a car park. He'd had to make a split second decision about whether or not to intervene. On the one hand he wouldn't be sorry to see Jolene disappear from his life. On the other hand if she vanished while he was still under review Berlin would suspect him. There was also the fact that Liz had met Jolene and was expecting her call. If Liz didn't hear from Jolene, she might take it upon herself to investigate.

Ultimately he'd decided to protect the woman. If he was lucky, maybe he could turn this situation to his advantage. He had saved Jolene's life. She now owed him. Before Tom could use this new advantage, he needed to know exactly how much trouble Jolene had gotten herself into.

"Who contracted you?" He didn't really expect the man to talk, but he was good at reading faces. Torture took time and the results were unreliable, so he'd spent years training himself to read micro-expressions.

"This isn't right." Why couldn't she just shut up and let him handle this? How was he supposed to concentrate when she was yammering in his ear?

"Who? Was it Younes? Salumbides?" Nothing. Tom knew the name he needed to try next, but he really didn't want to, because if it WAS him, then the shit had really hit the fan.

"We shouldn't have brought him here." Did she think he actually wanted this man in his safe house? Or her for that matter?

"Was it Reddington?" There it was, the reaction. It was minute, but it was there. Damn it all to hell.

"Somebody could have seen you." Tom's patience had reached an end.

"You know what, you're right. I should have let him drag you off to God knows where." He wished she would just shut up so he could think.

"I can handle myself just fine." Yeah right.

"You weren't. But you're welcome." Her gratitude was overwhelming.

"He's not going to talk." Whoever granted Jolene operative status had to have been sleeping with her, it was the only logical explanation.

"It was Reddington." He watched the cowboy carefully and again received confirmation that he was completely screwed.

"You don't know that. You don't know that!" At least she had the good sense to be panicked.

"You know that this whole thing is because of you?! That we're here with him? You never should have come to my house in the first place-" Jolene interrupted for the third time in the last 24 hours.

"I was following orders-" This time he was the one cutting her off.

"And you NEVER should have talked to my wife." For the past four months Tom had tried to make sense of the cases Reddington served up to the FBI. Now he had the answers to two: Wujing and The Alchemist. Wujing was one of the few people in the world with the resources to find information on someone like Jolene. Berlin had been known to utilize The Alchemist services from time to time, when operatives needed to disappear. Tom would bet good money he'd facilitated Jolene's "rebirth".

"What are we going to do about him?" The cowboy? That was what she was worried about? How could she be this clueless about the danger she was in? About the danger she had put HIM in? If the cowboy had been successful, and turned Jolene over to Reddington, then Reddington would have the smoking gun he needed to blow Tom's cover once and for all.

"You really don't get it, what he's doing? Wujing? The Alchemist?" How he had ever been taken by this woman was completely beyond him.

"What are you talking about?"

"The cases! Reddington used them to track you down to get to you, to me. You are comprised and if you are comprised, then it is only a matter of time before your trail leads to me." That couldn't happen. He couldn't run and leave Liz completely alone, at the mercy of Berlin, Reddington and whoever else came for the son of a bitch.

"That's not going to happen." No, it wouldn't. He would not let Jolene's mistake threaten Liz's safety.

"Call my wife. Get her on the phone. Disengage." The problem needed to be contained. Jolene was a small cancerous mass that needed to be surgically removed from his and Liz's life.

"Disengage?" Did he have to spell it out for her?

"Tell her you're not looking for a place anymore, that your boyfriend got a job offer and you're moving to Dayton." It was probably a good thing she was so slow. She wouldn't see his next move coming.

"Don't do it. As soon as you hang up that phone he's going to kill you, then he is going to kill me. Don't make that call." Why did men in weird hats constantly have to make his life more difficult than it had to be?

"Says the man tied to the chair. Do it." Jolene hesitated and for a moment he thought he was going to have to do this at gunpoint. It turned out he had worried for nothing. Jolene turned her back to him and dialed Liz's number. She really wasn't very smart, though to be fair he had just saved life and it wasn't exactly standard procedure for fellow operatives to take each other out, at least not without the go ahead from command.

As he removed his glasses he removed the part of himself that was Tom Keen and embraced the tunnel vision of the man who was not Tom Keen. This man didn't see people, he saw targets. The man who was not Tom Keen emptied his mind of all thoughts, except one: Eliminate the threats.


	5. Mako Tanida Part 4

Less than 48 hours ago Tom had been fantasizing about choking the life from the red-headed spy sent to seduce him. Three hours ago his fantasy had become reality. It hadn't felt nearly as satisfying as he had imagined. Actually, in the moment it hadn't felt much like anything, since he'd been too well trained to let emotion cloud his mind during a hit.

Killing the cowboy had been messy. He'd disposed of him with a single shot to the chest. Strangling him would have been cleaner, but it wouldn't have fit with the story he would tell Berlin. Jolene had been attacked by the Cowboy. They'd fought and he'd choked her to death. Tom had arrived, shot the cowboy and disposed of the bodies. If Berlin demanded proof, Tom would be able to supply it.

Reddington remained a concern. He would suspect the truth when neither the Cowboy, nor Jolene resurfaced. Tom was fairly certain he hadn't been seen moving the bodies, and the fact that a SWAT team hadn't been waiting for him at his house was a promising sign. It didn't matter what Reddington believed, only what he could prove, so for now Tom was safe. He'd gotten away clean, figuratively speaking. Literally was a different story. His hands were covered in the cowboy's blood and though he scrubbed and scrubbed, it didn't seem to want to come off.

"Hey. Mind if I join you?" Tom's heart leapt into his throat. His hands weren't clean yet. Unfortunately he couldn't think of a single excuse. He needed to distract her.

"Not at all. How was your day?" Who had Reddington sent her after today? International arms dealer? Political kidnapping ring? He didn't like not knowing. He'd check her files later tonight while she slept. She didn't seem the worse for the wear, but he learned that that didn't really meant anything. Reading her reports he was amazed how many times Liz had nearly died, and never told him. Maybe amazed wasn't the right word. Terrified would be more accurate.

"Let's talk about anything but that. Like that girl, Jolene." His heart skipped a beat. Did she know? No, he was being ridiculous. If she knew she won't have joined him in the shower, she'd have shot him through the curtain.

"What about her? Did, uh, Ellie find her a place?" His words sounded a little false to his own ears, but Liz thankfully didn't seem to notice.

"No, I guess it's not happening. She called me and left me a message, said her fiancée got a job in Dayton." Liz sounded mildly bemused by the turn of events, but not unduly curious. That was a relief.

"Huh. She's just gone?" His mind flashed to the grave where he'd buried Jolene next to the Cowboy. One minute here, one minute gone. Dead in an unmarked grave, wearing a name not truly her own. Would anyone miss her? Somehow he doubted it. She'd been a ghost, just like him; in this world but not of it.

"Yeah, I guess so. I'm kind of glad. I saw that way she looked at you." Tom managed an embarrassed smile and looked down. He wondered if Liz was right, if Jolene had been attracted to him. Maybe that was why she'd turned her back on him those final moment. Sentiment was a dangerous thing for people like them.

"Come here. Kiss me, Tim, or whatever your name is." Tom happily obliged, closing his eyes and emptying his mind of thoughts of Jolene, Berlin, and Reddington. His future may have been uncertain, his present was bliss and he planed to make the most of every second of it.


	6. Ivan Part 1

_Tom sat up in bed. The clock read 2:14 am. Liz wasn't beside him. Where had she gone? He exited the bedroom and padded down the stairs. About midway down he heard a male voice coming from the kitchen. He heart starting thumping hard in his chest. Was it finally happening? Had Berlin come for Liz? He pressed himself against the wall and crept closer until he could make out the voices._

"_You were right." Liz. He snuck a quick peek into the kitchen and saw his wife leaning against the counter talking to none other than Raymond Reddington. Anger boiled up inside Tom. The criminal had been a plague on both his and Liz's life for months. Everything that had gone wrong in his marriage could be traced back to him. For him to physical invade his home was an affront Tom wasn't about to ignore. He stepped into the kitchen._

"_Lizzie? What is going on? Who is this man?" Instead of responding Liz stared coldly at him, as though he was the intruder, not Reddington. Reddington tilted his head and smiled one of his sly, enigmatic grins._

"_Don't you think this innocent school teacher routine is a little tired by now?" Tom's eyes darted back to Liz to see how she reacted to Reddington's jibe. In her eyes he saw…nothing. No anger, no sadness, no fear, just nothing. He'd seen her show more expression watching an infomercial. _

"_Lizzie, I don't know who this man is or what he's told you-" Liz cut him off abruptly._

"_He didn't need to tell me anything. You didn't think I noticed l the blood on your hands? You're a monster. Red was right all along." The matter of fact way she said it was somehow even worse than the accusation. Anger, sadness, even disgust would be better than this apathy._

"_I can explain." There had to be a way to break through the shell, to make her understand…_

"_It's too late for that. Here." Liz picked up a bright red package from the countertop. She tossed it to him, and he caught it._

"_What is this?" He turned the box over in his hands._

"_Red's present for our anniversary." The international criminal offered Tom a chilling smile._

_Tom ripped the wrapping paper off the box, and opened the lid to find a smiling blue hippopotamus inside. This Uncle Flippo looked just like the one Liz had put in his lunchbox that morning, except for one key difference…this Uncle Flippo had a bomb in his belly! _

"_Time's up, Tom." Reddington's smug words echoed in his ears as he stood frozen watching the digital timer ticked down. 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…._

Tom jolted awake, breathing hard. His eyes swept his bedroom. No Reddington. No bomb. It was just a nightmare. It wasn't that surprising he was having bad dreams, given unexpected arrival on his doorstep this morning. Things had just started to feel normal again, and now Reddington once again had him backpedaling. The "concierge of crime" might not have sent him an actual bomb, but as Tom had been questioned by Detective Dabarros, he could have sworn he'd heard a ticking in his ears.

Another troubling similarity between his dream and reality was that Liz wasn't in bed next to him. He should look for her, if only to reassure himself that she wasn't in the kitchen with Reddington, plotting his demise.

He found Liz on the coach in the living room staring intently at her laptop. Had she found something? A step squeaked beneath his weigh, causing Liz to look up at him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you." Liz seemed preoccupied, but mostly relaxed, which was a good sign. Still if she was working on something in the middle of the night, he should know what it was.

"What are you doing up?" He moved to sit on the couch beside her, noting as he did that she hadn't shifted the screen to impede his vision. He hadn't been comprised.

"Jolene Parker. Her real name is Lucy Brooks." This was exactly what he had been afraid would happen when the cop showed up this morning. Liz hated mysteries and because Jolene had stupidly inserted herself into his wife's life, Liz had taken an interest in her disappearance.

"What?" This was Reddington's plan. The first time Number 4 had come at Tom, he'd used the FBI as his puppets. Now he was using Metro PD and Liz.

"I heard from Detective Dabarros. She's a wanted criminal." It figured that this would be one time in the history of law enforcement that local cops actually cooperated with federal agents.

"What's V.I.C.A.P?" Tom put on his glasses and scanned the page for anything that might tie Jolene back to Berlin.

"ViCAP. It's the Bureau's violent criminal database. She's a convicted felon. Robbery. Aggravated assault. Two years ago her patrol officer in Santa Fe reported her missing." Two years? That certainly explained her incompetence. He couldn't believe Berlin had sent someone that green to evaluate him.

"Now she shows up as a substitute teacher in an elementary school? How does that even happen?" Was he playing this too clueless?

"I am so sorry." Apparently not. It seemed the more naïve he sounded, the guiltier Liz felt. He could work with that.

"What are you sorry for?" Guilt was good. Guilt got Liz thinking more about protecting him and less about suspecting him.

"She was here in our house. In our bedroom. And it's because of me." What did Liz make of all this? She obviously didn't suspect him, so what did she think Jolene had been up to?

"Liz, that's crazy." Did Liz know about Reddington? Did she know about her scar? He was sure she hadn't before, but who knew what Reddington had told her.

"No. If you knew what I do…" So she didn't know. Not really. She thought it was just about her work with Reddington.

"What do you mean?" This was an opportunity he couldn't afford to waste. She was sharing more with him the she ever had before. If he could get her to open up once, the precedent would be set, and he could convince her to do it again.

"God, if she had done anything to you…" Liz sounded so worried about him, it was heartbreaking. Tom Keen was such an innocent to her. If she only knew the truth…but that wasn't a thought he needed to have now. Now was the time to comfort his wife, to sooth her fears.

"Come on, I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself…" Tom pulled a blanket around her shoulders and drew her into his arms. Liz might think that she needed to protect him from the big, bad world, but it was just the opposite. Liz was the innocent. She was the pure one. She shouldn't have to feel guilt for not being able to see into the darkness from whence he came.

"Don't beat yourself up. You could never have known this. You never really know people, do you?" He prayed to a god he didn't believe in that Liz would never truly know him. It wouldn't just jeopardize her safety, it would break her heart.

Liz took her head off his chest and looked into his eyes. Her stare was direct and full of purpose. It was typical Liz, going from soft to hard in a matter of seconds.

"I'm going to find her. Whoever she works for. Whoever they are, whatever it takes, I'm going to find her." Though the words were meant to reassure him, they had the complete opposite effect. If Liz was this determined it was going to be hard to stay ahead of her.

"Alright, just promise me you'll keep me in the loop. Just this one time. Okay?"

"Okay." He smiled at Liz's quick acquiesce. Maybe everything would be okay after all.

"Come on. We both have work in the morning." Together they made their way up the stairs into bed. Liz's body nestled perfectly into his and Tom knew with absolute certainty that no more bad dreams would come tonight.


	7. Ivan Part 2

Tom opened his lunch box and found himself gazing into the face of a blue hippo. He had brought the toy to school yesterday, put it on his desk and as Liz has predicted, his students had loved it. When he'd told them it had been a gift from Liz, they told him he had "THE BEST WIFE EVER". Tom disagreed. HE didn't have "the best wife ever", Tom Keen did. If Raymond Reddington had his way, he wouldn't be borrowing Tom Keen's life for much longer. The fedora-wearing bastard had sent the police after him, just like he'd sent the FBI, and just like he'd sent Zamani. Tom had never hated anyone the way he hated that man.

Uncle Flippo's eyes seemed to watch Tom with unspoken reproach as he grabbed his sandwich and juice. He'd spent the morning sanitizing the watch post, getting rid of any trace evidence from the murders he'd committed. Perhaps it was paranoia, but Liz's vow last night, along with that nightmare had spooked him. He still couldn't shake the pit in his stomach and blue hippo wasn't helping matters. Tom imagined a thousand silent accusations being hurled at him by the inanimate piece of plastic, 'This isn't the place for me. I don't belong here. I don't belong to YOU.' Tom snatched the toy out of his lunchbox and hurled it into the trash. He had more important things to worry about than Uncle Flippo. Killing Raymond Reddington for example.

Tom finished eating and cleared away the rest of lunch before setting his guns out on the table. Cleaning weapons had always been a stress relieving activity for him and he needed a clear head. If he was going to kill the concierge of crime it was going to take some serious planning. Not only would he be attempting to do something that no one had been able to do for the past twenty years, but he had to do it without Berlin finding out.

Reddington was constantly on the move. Even if Tom did managed to get a bead on his location, he couldn't just follow him around hoping an opportunity presented itself. He'd need to draw Reddington out into the open and to do that he'd have to use Liz. Use Liz. Even in his head he hated the sound of it.

The practical part of his brain told him it was the only play to make. Reddington didn't have an abundance of vulnerabilities that Tom could exploit. Liz was the only option. Any pain he caused her in paled in comparison to what he was saving her from. Reddington was a threat to Liz's safety. He had sent Liz after countless dangerous criminals and put her it situations she had no business being in. His mere presence in her life made her a target for all of his enemies, Berlin included. Tom would have to make the choice: Could he hurt Liz a little to protect her from a lot?

Tom's phone rang, as if he'd summoned Liz with his thoughts.

"Hey." Was this the check-in call Liz had promised him? Had she found something?

"You have a second?" For this call he had all the time in the world.

"Yeah. What's up?" Had Reddington been up to more of his mind games?

"I'm following up some leads on Jolene's case and I came across an address." Fantastic, Jolene had left yet another loose end. Why had Berlin sent someone so criminally incompetent?

"What's the address?" What mess was he going to have to clean up this time?

"1896 La Vista Street." Oh shit. How had she found him? He turned to the monitors and to his horror saw Liz standing 100 yards from the warehouse's door.

"I've never heard of it." Liz must have traced the phone he'd forced Jolene to make. Damn it.

"It's not her home address. Maybe it's her fiancee's? I'm going to check it out." She was right outside. He needed to move. Now.

"I think you're cutting out. Liz can you hear me?" Tom disconnected the call, raced over to his board, and started ripping the papers down. His notes were everywhere and if Liz recognized his handwriting then that was it. He threw him in the metal tub. There was a knock at the door.

He poured on the accelerant and shoved the box of matches into his pocket. Grabbing the bin, Tom raced out in to the back alley. Blood pumped in his ears as a fumbled with the box. She was going to be there any second! He struck his first match too hard against the side. It snapped in two. He willed himself to be calm. He drew another match out of the carton. This time was a success.

He didn't have enough time to make it down the alley, so he move to hide behind the hanging tarps. Tom's heart pounded in his chest as he listened for Liz's footsteps. She moved slowly deliberately toward his hiding place. He needed to move in perfect synchronization if he wanted to avoid detection. 1, 2, 3. He moved to the other side of the tarp just as Liz rounded the corner. If he could just make it to behind the door, he would be home free.

Her footsteps echoed past him and in his relief he leaned ever so slightly on the door. The resulting creak might as well have been a flare gun. It was over. Liz would arrest him, Berlin would send a new agent, Reddington would continue to jeopardize Liz's life on a weekly basis, all because of one squeaky door.

No. He wasn't giving up that easily. He would get out of this. If Liz was going to be safe, she could not find out about him. His earlier dilemma returned to him. Could he hurt her a little to protect her from a lot? Could he be cruel to be kind?

Tom braced himself and then slammed the heavy door into Liz. Before she could recover he raced over and followed up with a hard punch to the face. Then he ran. Tom ran like he'd never run before, focusing on avoiding all surveillance cameras, and trying to block the memory of striking his wife.

He needed to call this in. Tom found a payphone and dialed Berlin's front.

"Phantom Finance. How may I direct your call?" "Phantom Finance". Honestly, they couldn't pick something a little less shell company-esque?

"I'm having a problem with my account, number Delta Sierra 451." More like "problems". To date he'd lost his official go-box, his safe house, his surveillance equipment, and his weapons. Also the police were investigating a murder he had committed.

"Line secure. Proceed." Nothing like the warm, caring voice of his handler to brighten his mood.

"Watch post is comprised. Bona fides in question. Tell Berlin I was forced to liquidate." Tom hung up and stalked off down the street. Berlin was not going to be pleased. Actually no, they hadn't be "pleased" when he'd failed to show up for his meet four months ago. Now they were probably "deeply suspicious".

He'd spun Jolene's death as her mistake and not his, and they seemed to have accepted it, but at this point how was he supposed to convince them he was still in control? The time may have come to use the key he'd hidden in Ike's base all those months ago. Of course that would mean telling Liz. It would mean explaining the truth about himself and all the lies he'd told her. It would mean breaking her heart.

No, it was too soon for that. He'd watch and wait. At the first sign things were shifting, he'd tell her. Just not now, not yet. He wanted a few more dinners, a few more kisses, and a few more nights sleeping next to the woman he loved. He wanted a little more time to be Tom Keen. He wanted a little more time to be happy.


	8. Ivan Part 3

Love of cooking: item #143 on the list of things he and Tom Keen did not have in common in the early stages of this mission and item #2 on the list of things that had changed over the past three years. Before this mission, food had been about sustenance and efficiency. His body was a weapon that had to be vigorously maintained. Years spent living mostly in hotel rooms had meant he could prepare the simplest of meals or eat out. Mostly Tom had chosen the former. He'd hated sitting in restaurants, surrounded by all those couples and families. It was too harsh a reminder of what his life would never be.

His mission with Liz had required that he learn at least the basics of cooking. Liz herself was completely incompetent and he'd known that having the ability to make her a home-cooked meal would work in his favor. One of Liz's deepest desires was to have a "normal" domestic life outside her job. Nothing screamed potential husband material than a man who could cook for her.

What had started out as one more tactical skill to acquire had quickly morphed into something else. It hadn't taken long for Tom to come to enjoy the process, going to the store, choosing the freshest ingredients, preparing them according to the instructions, and then enjoying the product of his labors. He liked the steadiness of it, the certainty of knowing that if he did everything he was supposed to, down to the letter, he would be rewarded with a perfect outcome. There was no chaos factor, no uncertainty. Follow the recipe, and reap the reward. It was so simple, unlike any other part of his life at the moment. Liz's loud sigh announced her presence in the kitchen.

"Hey babe." Liz looked fine, if tired as she plopped her laptop down on the counter. There was nothing in her behavior that indicted she'd learned anything from trip to the watch post.

"I need some wine. Preferably the entire bottle." She sounded completely normal, as if this were any other long day she'd come home from. She wasn't keeping the fact she had a terrible day from him. If she was acting this candidly, then she couldn't know the truth.

"Ohhh…That bad? Hey, uh…last we talked you were going to Jolene's apartment. What happened? Any word?" He was glad he'd had the good sense to sanitize or who knows what they would have found. Liz's face grew solemn.

"It's not good." Not good? What the hell did that mean? Liz slowly walked up to stand behind him and he found himself getting extremely nervous. Liz grabbed his arms, "There was evidence of foul play." Was she about to cuff him? Stab him with a needle? Stab him with a knife? Draw a gun and press it to his back?

"Foul play? What does that mean?" Was this it? Was he blown?

"There's nothing concrete. MPD is still processing the apartment." So, basically they had nothing. He needed to tone back his paranoia.

"What do they know? Do they have any suspects?" There was no way they caught him on surveillance footage, he'd been too careful. The only danger would come from an eye witness and he'd specifically choose a watch post in a neighborhood where people knew better than to be too curious about their neighbors.

"They don't, but when I went to the apartment there was someone there, a man. He…knocked me down…he-" Tom cut Liz off with all the appropriate outrage of a protective husband.

"What? Did he hurt you?" Liz's face didn't have a bruise yet, but he'd imagined he see some evidence of his assault tomorrow. It was not exactly something he was looking forward to.

"I'm fine." Liz smiled at him, brushing it off. To her he imagined it wasn't that big of deal. Being punched and shot at was becoming normal for her, too normal in his opinion.

"Are you okay? You were attacked! Liz?" It was a small thing to her now, but he wondered how she would feel if she knew that he had dealt her that blow.

"The police are looking for him." There at least he didn't have anything to worry about…unless of course Reddington decided to intervene again.

"Did you get a good look at him at least?" He'd struck his wife with the single purpose of protecting his cover, and thus protecting her. Had that been in vain?

"I wish." Another narrow escape. Tom Keen seemed to have more lives than a cat.

"Just the thought of someone doing that to you, hurting you, some stranger…" Tom reached out and gently touched the face he had hit only hours before. The parts of him that were Tom Keen condemned what he'd done, even as the rest of him argued for its necessity. There was no use in lamenting it now. It was done. Tom Keen might as well make himself useful, "What do you need?"

"Wine." Tom wandered over to the wine rack, examining the various bottles, trying to find the perfect cure for his wife's bad day. Tom glanced over at Liz and saw she's opened her laptop once again. He really despised that computer. It was like a siren that kept calling Liz back to her life with Reddington, even when she was home with him.

He turned his attention back to the bottles. He couldn't decide. Tom turned back to Liz to ask what bottle she wanted, but stopped when he saw the look on her face. Liz appeared frozen in place, mouth hanging open, her eyes wide with surprise. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Tom reached out a blindly grabbed a bottle and slowly made his way back into the kitchen.

"Is everything okay?" Everything was clearly not okay. Liz was not okay. Maybe this was another false alarm. Maybe this wasn't about him. She could have had a revelation on a case she was working. It didn't HAVE to be about him. He silently begged whatever deity that might be listening that it wasn't about him.

"I'm fine. Just work." He started walking towards her and she shut the laptop. Perfect, as if the "fine" wasn't enough to make him panic.

"You sure?"

"Mmmmhmmm." Tight smile. Wordless answer. Not good. Not good at all. Tom reminded himself to stay calm and stay in character.

"'Cause I hate to break it to you, but after two years of marriage I know that that face means you're upset." Just one detail, some explanation that was all he needed to quell the building panic in his gut.

"I'm fine. I promise." Fine. He really did hate that word. With Liz it almost always meant the opposite of the proscribed definition.

"Really?" He studied her face, looking for something, anything that might convince him she was telling him the truth.

"Really." He looked into the eyes of his wife and watched as her pupils dilated. It was over. She knew.


	9. Milton Bobbit Part 1

Tom sat in his car and twisted the wedding band on his finger. He'd once told Liz that one of the things he loved about her was that she was an open book to him. That may have once been true, but now he felt like every other word had been blacked out by a censor.

Two nights ago he'd been certain that Liz had found out the truth about him. All through dinner he'd waited for her to excuse herself and call the FBI. She hadn't. After they'd eaten, she'd told him she'd left something important at work and she had to go and get it. The second she had left the house he'd pulled up the GPS coordinates on her phone. She hadn't gone to the Post Office. He'd waited, prepared to flee at the first sound of sirens. They hadn't come.

After an hour the dot representing Liz started to move back towards their house. Tom had shut his computer, climbed into bed, and closed his eyes. Eventually he'd heard the sound of Liz entering their bedroom. She'd stood over him for over a minute. Tom had been careful to breathe steady and shallow. Eventually Liz has put her pajamas on and crawled into bed with him. She'd sleep on the edge of the mattress, at least a full body's away from him. He'd resisted the urge to slide closer to her, and pull her to chest.

The next morning Tom had done his best to maintain their normal routines by making pancakes. He'd hoped the fact that Liz hadn't called the FBI meant that she only had suspicions, and not hard evidence. He'd assuaged her suspicions before and he'd believed he could do it again. Unfortunately it quickly had become clear to him that the flapjacks weren't cutting it. In one of the more impulsive moves he'd ever made, he'd gotten down on one knee and proposed for the second time. She accepted and he'd thought he'd turned a corner. He'd hoped that maybe, just maybe, she was choosing to trust him, despite whatever she'd found out. Those hopes had been dashed when his "brother" Craig had called him this morning.

Planning an impromptu vow renewal without even discussing it with him before hand was not something Liz would normally do. She definitely suspected him, so why had she fast tracked the ceremony like this? He didn't like it, especially given the fact that it had brought another one of Berlin's agents into his home. Still there was no use stalling. He had to go and face the music.

Tom's house was filled with all of his "friends" from work. He caught sight of his fake brother and put on a happy face, "Craig? What the hell are you doing here? What is all this?" Liz bustled over wearing a white dress and carrying two glasses of champagne.

"You said you wanted to renew our vows! There's no time like the present." What was going through her mind right now? He didn't have time to study her face before he was greeted by Ellie.

"I can't believe you guys are getting married twice before I even get married once!" Ellie handed him a dry-cleaned tux and kissed his cheek. He privately agreed with Ellie, he couldn't quite believe this was happening either.

"We just talked about it yesterday. So Craig, when did you did you get in?" His real question was how long had he been alone with Liz.

"Liz called me this morning. I got the first flight out." Tom told himself not to be too paranoid. Craig wasn't exactly Sherlock Holmes and didn't know Liz the way Tom did. Maybe Liz had successfully deceived him. Stranger things had happened.

"Work has been insane and we've had to put so many thing off and I'm not doing it anymore. I want to marry this man!" As glasses were raised around the room, Tom wondered exactly how much champagne Liz had already had. She hadn't been this exuberant on their actual wedding day.

"Cheers." All of Tom's hopes about fooling Craig went out the window. Even he had to notice Liz's sudden personality change. Maybe Tom could sell this as Liz's buzzed persona...

"Now go get dressed. Oh and make sure he shaves. I'm not marrying George Michael." Could she sound any less like herself? Tom practically sprinted up the stairs, with Craig on his heels. He pulled off his shirt and headed into the on-suite bathroom. Craig followed like an agitated puppy.

"You shouldn't be here." With everything that had happened lately he was having a hard enough time convincing his handler that things were still under control. That last thing he needed was a witness to whatever it was that Liz was up to.

"Yeah? You think I didn't try? You know, you should thank me. I called you the minute I knew." What did he want, a medal?

"Yeah, a lot of good that did." It wasn't like there was anything Tom could have done to delay the ceremony. If he'd dragged his feet after proposing the renewal in the first place, it would have made Liz even more suspicious than she already was.

"She was asking about our parents." As if he needed any more proof that she was investigating him.

"The accident?" Tom Keen was an orphan whose parents died in a car wreck. It was a simple story and cut the number or bit characters in his life to a minimum. If she was asking about the crash, then she was definitely checking up on his legend.

"Yeah, the accident in Tucson. I think she knows." Tom agreed, but he also knew he couldn't let Craig leave believing that. One call to his handler was all it would take and everything Tom had done to keep Liz safe would have been for nothing.

"No. She doesn't know anything." He continued to shave while surreptitiously checking Craig's reaction in the mirror. He didn't look convinced.

"You honestly don't see it, do you? How far in over your head you are? She knows exactly what she's doing. This chick is smart-" Tom cut him off midsentence.

"Look man, I know what I am doing. I know how to read this woman. Why do you think I asked her to renew our vows? To get her in bed? Come on, give me break." He scoffed and turned back to the mirror, hopefully selling his scornful indifference to Liz.

"Yeah? Well I hope your BS is exceptional today, because in less than five minutes you're going to fall in love all over again." Tom's eyes followed Craig as he left the room to rejoin the party.

"Thanks, brother." The only positive take away from that conversation had been that Craig didn't suspect him of harboring feelings for Liz. Jolene's instincts had been sharper, at least regarding his commitment to his marriage. Maybe it was because she had been a woman. Not that it mattered. Jolene was no longer the problem, Craig was.

While Craig didn't seem to know that Tom was deliberately keeping things from Berlin, he did think that Liz was playing him. Tom was now all, but certain that Craig was right. Now he had two things to juggle; dealing with whatever Liz was planning and throwing Craig off her scent. Ultimately it wasn't his BS Tom was concerned with, it was Liz's. She was a terrible liar.

Tom finished shaving and pulled on his tuxedo. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. With the fresh shave, the suit, and the absence of glasses, he looked more like his former self than he had in years. Tom Keen's eye wear sat on the top of his dresser, but he didn't want to put them on just yet. He sat on the bed and picked up a piece of paper and a pen from the night stand. He needed to write his wedding vows.

Tom uncapped the pen and let it rest on the page. What should he say to his fake wife during the vow renewal ceremony that she only agreed to so she could investigate him? Something about celebrating the bonds of trust between them? Maybe a few words on honesty and fidelity? This had been so much easier the first time around.

They'd gotten married only eight months after they'd first met. He hadn't loved her then, or at least he hadn't realized he did. During that first wedding he'd just immersed herself in his role and it was an easy one to play. Now it was real, at least for him, and he didn't have the traditional lines to fall back on. It was just as well, because nothing about their relationship was traditional.

Tom closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Forget Craig, forget Berlin, and forget Reddington. What did he want to say to Liz about who he was, about how he felt about her, and about what he so desperately wanted? No BS, as Craig had suggested, but the truth. The time for pretending was done.

Three minutes later Tom was standing before Liz, glasses on and vows in hand. He couldn't take his eyes off her, even if he'd wanted to. She was so beautiful.

"When I'm with you, Liz, I feel like I don't need to pretend," because his love for her was real, even if his name was a lie, "I know that you accept for who I really am," or at least he prayed she would, "and that's a gift that I thank God for every day. And that's all I got." Had she heard him plead for her trust and understanding?

"Tom…everyone…thing is, when you asked me to renew our vows, I thought it was …odd…and then I realized how much we've been through in such a short time. So much has changed," Liz paused and her eyes went dark, almost certainly thinking of his perceived betrayals. For a terrible moment he thought she was going to call him out, right there and then, but instead she'd pushed on. "But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this was the beginning of something amazing. A new chapter. A new us." There was something a little frightening about his wife's eyes as she spoke about their future. "And I wanted to take this opportunity to stand before you and all off our friends, everyone we love, and tell you how excited I am about what's coming next, because I have a feeling that this is going to be…one hell of a ride." Liz had essentially just declared war on him during their vow renewal. And to make matters worse, Craig had watched her do it.

"Okay. By the powered invested in me by the online universal life church…I now pronounce you once again husband and wife." On the positive side he no longer had any doubt about her intentions. She definitely wanted to destroy him, "This is the kissing part." Right, because the show must go on. He kissed Liz to the whooping of their friends. It was strange knowing her lips caressed his out of necessity rather than affection. It struck him that this was a taste of what Liz must be going through. He wondered what that was like for her, believing that every word he'd spoken, every touch, every kiss, had been a lie. They broke apart and found Liz gazing into his eyes with that same fevered energy he'd seen since he'd first arrived home. He now saw it for what it really was: rage and grief, masked as excitement.

"I going to go served some more champagne." Tom nodded sensing she needed some distance from him to simmer down.

"Sure. I'll go mingle. And Liz? I love you." Liz gave him a small smile and scurried off.

"Yeah, you've got things totally under control. We need to handle this." Craig had appeared at his elbow.

"We need to talk about this, but not here and not now. Tomorrow 4 pm." He'd take care of Craig, just like he'd taken care of Jolene and then…he'd have to come clean. As Liz has predicted, it was going to be, "One hell of a ride."


	10. Milton Bobbit Part 2

Tom was on edge. Craig was late and Tom's plan for disposing of his faux relative hinged on him showing up before Liz and the rest of their neighbors arrived home. He didn't like doing this at the house at all but, it wasn't like he could use his watch post anymore. On the positive side the house was probably better for lulling Craig into a false sense of security. Craig would never expect Tom to try anything here, because to do what he was about to do in his own home was reckless in the extreme.

The plan was fairly straight forward. Craig would arrive, Tom would inject him with a sedative, he'd wait an hour, and then when Craig started coming to he'd walk him out to his car, like a good brother tending to his drunk sibling. He'd stick Craig again, this time with an overdose of morphine, drive the body to a remote location in the woods and bury him.

It would work, but only if Craig actually managed to show up when he was supposed to. He was literally late for his own funnel. Tom pulled out his phone and dialed Craig's number. The cell phone rang three times before voicemail picked up. What was going on? He dialed the hotel and asked to be connected to Craig Keen's room. Craig picked up on the eighth ring.

"Everything's fine." Fine. Tom's least favorite four-letter word.

"Yeah? Then why didn't you pick up?" Something was wrong. Craig was an idiot, but even he didn't blow off meets.

"There's a situation. I'm handling it. I just need time." Tom knew evasive language when he heard it. Craig was hiding something.

"Time for what?" What had happened? Was Berlin moving against him? Had they found out the truth somehow? Were they coming for him? Were they coming for Liz?

"What are you, my wife, Tom? Listen up. I just need…two hours. I'll explain everything then. Just sit tight. Don't panic." Don't panic. If Tom hadn't been worried before, he sure was now.

"Easy for you to say, I'm the one who's accountable to Berlin. I'm coming to your hotel now." He hung up before Craig had the chance to reply and called a cab. The last thing he need was for his car to be spotted by Craig or whoever was with him in that hotel room. He donned a baseball cap and slipped the syringes he'd prepared for Craig into his pocket.

Fifteen minutes later the cab reached the street of Craig's hotel only to be waved off by a police officer. Coincidence? Tom didn't believe in coincidences. He paid the cabbie, got out onto the sidewalk, and approached the officer directing traffic.

"Excuse me officer, could you tell me what's going on?"

"There was a jumper. Traffic's being temporary rerouted." And that was all he would get from a member of the MPD. He needed to find out what happened, but he also needed to not be seen in the hotel, until he knew what was up. Tom needed someone else to investigate for him. First stop, ATM. He kept his head down as he withdrew $1000 from his Phantom Finance account. The brim of his cap should keep anyone from identifying him, if anyone checked on the surveillance later. He doubt that they would, but better safe than caught.

He had the cash, now he just needed the right mark. He crossed the street and ducked into a coffee shop directly across from the hotel. After buying his prop he sat at the window and watched the mob of rubber-neckers pushing in on the crime scene. Eventually he spotted what he was looking for. An attractive woman in her mid-thirty, who'd entered the hotel not long after Tom had sat down was exiting the hotel and inserting herself into the throng. She pushed her way to the front, remained there for thirty seconds, and then pushed her way back out again.

Tom watched the woman as she slipped around into the alley next to the building. Tom threw his coffee cup away and joined the mob on the other side of the street. It wasn't long before one of the cops ducked under the crime scene tape. Tom followed him down the street at a safe distance and observed him ducking into the same alley the woman had disappeared into. Too easy.

He took out his phone and set it to record. Tom aimed the camera's lens around the corner to where the woman and the uniform had disappeared. There. He zoomed in until the cop and the woman were full frame. The seemed deep in conversation. There was no sound, but that didn't really matter, given what he had planned. After a minute the woman handed the officer money. Bingo.

Tom stopped the recording, and walked about fifteen feet back toward the hotel. He then stopped, leaned up against the side of the building, lowered his head and pretended to text. Tom watched the cop's shoes pass him fifteen seconds later. He allowed another ten seconds to pass before returning his phone to his pocket and strolling off toward the alley once again. As he walked, he pulled his wedding band off and thrust it into his jacket pocket. It didn't hurt to have multiple angles available, just in case. This time, instead of waiting by the mouth of the alley he turned in. The woman was too busy typing into her phone's keypad to notice until he was standing only a few feet away.

"Can I help you?" He couldn't decide if her apparent lack of fear when confronted in an alley by a strange man was bravery or stupidity.

"Why yes, you can. Thanks for offering. I'm going to need your interview notes." The woman stared at him, completely nonplussed.

"Excuse me?" Tom offered his most charming smile.

"You're right, that was rude. I'm going to need your interview notes, please." The reporter's eyes narrowed as if she couldn't tell if he were kidding or not.

"Are you insane?" He was a spy who had already incurred the wrath of Raymond Reddington AND was currently betraying his own highly dangerous employer for a woman who now probably loathed the very sight of him. Insane didn't begin to cover it.

"If you ask my ex-wife, I'm sure she'd say 'yes'. But no, I'm fairly sound of mind." The reporter's eyes flickered to his ring finger as he mentioned his marital status.

"Then why on earth would you think I would give you my notes?" Despite her words Tom could detect a slight change in tone. Suspicious she may have been, but immune to his physical charms, she was not. That would make things easier.

"I'd never expect you to give them to me. I'm perfectly willing to buy them from you. $500 dollars." In truth he would pay five thousand to get this whole thing sorted quickly, but offering that much money would make her suspicious and the last thing he needed was for her to start investigating him.

"It'd be a lot cheaper for you to just buy a newspaper tomorrow like everyone else." She was sousing him out. It was time to unveil his cover story.

"It would be if was just interested in reading the story. I want to write it." The reporter's eyebrows shot sky high.

"With my notes?" Tom shrugged.

"I'm new in town and I don't have the police contacts yet that a home courter, such as yourself does. Besides if you're not covering the story that's one less local I'm competing against." His story was plausible enough. DC was filled with hungry freelance journalists looking for their big break.

"What makes you think I even have the scoop?" The fact that she asked that question for starters.

"I arrived on scene about the same time you did. You were in and out of that hotel in thirty minutes, which tells me got what you came for. One of the maids?" The reporter crossed her arms, in classical defensive posture. She was an even worse a liar than Liz was and that was saying something.

"What makes you say that?"

"Universal rule of journalism: The maids know EVERYTHING." It was something that behooved both journalists and spies to know. When it came to getting information on a target, there was no source as valuable as a member of the domestic staff.

"Let's say I agree. What's to stop me from writing this story myself anyway?" Tom honestly couldn't care less, but his character would obviously object, thus the video he's shot earlier.

"Besides your conscience? The footage I have of you and your police source chatting in this very alley. His captain would not be thrilled if I were to email it to him. I imagine the reprimand that would follow would make your source a bit more reluctant to speak to you in the future." Tom took the camera out of his pocket and turned it towards her so she could see. The money was the carrot, and the video was the stick. An unstoppable combination.

"Are you sure you're not a local?" She sounded grudgingly impressed rather than angry, which he took to be a good sign.

"Chicago man, born and bred. Go Cubs." He gestured to his hat, which bore the team's emblem.

"Alright, Deep Dish. One time only, $1000 cash, AND you delete the video as soon as your story prints." Deep Dish? Strange nickname, but he'd been called worse. It was time to haggle.

"$1000. For a jumper story? Suicide isn't that sexy. $600." He was deliberately provoking her with the suicide comment. Would she take the bait?

"Police think its foul play. Murder is plenty sexy. $900." There it was: confirmation that there was no such thing as coincidence.

"$750." Exactly where Tom had predicted they'd settle.

"Done." She smiled as he shelled out the cash.

"So who was the body?" He had no doubt that Craig was involved, but was he the victim or the perpetrator?

"The police said it was hard to give a 100% positive ID with the face managed up like it was, but they are pretty sure it was a guest. He matches the general description of the man staying in the hotel room. Craig Keen. He checked in a couple of nights ago." Tom supposed that solved at least one of his problems, but there was still the lingering question of what had happened.

"Why are they saying foul play?" It had to be either Berlin or Reddington and Tom had a hard time imagining either of them making such a spectacle of it.

"He was handcuffed when he went through the window. He room was also a mess. The mirror was shattered. They also found some scrapping on the sink's pipe. They think someone had him chained up for a while before he went out the window. There were no fingerprints in the room, someone must have wiped it down." So Craig was ambushed and interrogated. That still didn't tell Tom very much.

"Any suspects?" He needed to know if this was Berlin cleaning house, or Reddington continuing on his path of destruction.

"The surveillance videos have been mysteriously wiped, so they have no record of who went in and out of the hotel today." Of the video were wiped. Whoever was behind this was careful and smart. "Shouldn't you be taking notes, recording this, whatever?"

"I have a photographic memory. What about witnesses?" Video would have been preferable, but he'd take anything he could get at this point.

"Just one. A maid delivered room service to the room about an hour before it happened. She said she was generously tipped by a huge, handsome black man, which definitely does not match the description of the victim." A huge handsome black man? That sounded an awful lot like Reddington's bodyguard, Dembe. Well at least know he knew. Tom offered the reporter his right hand to shake.

"Well, it's been a pleasure, Ms…" He really didn't care what her name was, but if he left her with a favorable impression, she was much less likely to get her police buddies to look into him.

"Jennings. Heather Jennings. So this memory of yours, you can recall pretty much everything? So if I were to tell you my cell phone number was 202-796-7435…" Her voice trailed off as she offered him a flirtatious smile. He reciprocated with practiced ease.

"I would remember it." Her smile increased in wattage. She really was very pretty.

"Call me sometime, Deep Dish." Tom watched her saunter out of the alley. Four years ago he would have been tempted to take her up on her offer. Simpler days. Currently he had bigger things to worry about, namely what exactly Reddington had learned and how much exactly he'd told Liz.


	11. Milton Bobbit Part 3

Tom stared at his computer screen, watching the dot that represented Liz move towards their house. She'd spent an hour at an address that he now knew housed a block of storage units. Liz was almost certainly running her investigation from one of them.

He imagined her standing in front of a white board, staring at photographs, and asking herself a million questions that she didn't have the answers to. Liz wouldn't be alone. Reddington would be there with her, holding her hand, telling her lies, and teaching her to distrust any linger feelings she might have for him.

A whining noise came from Tom's feet. He looked down and watched as Hudson rubbed up against his leg. Tom smiled in spite of himself. As dogs went, Hudson was pretty independent, content to putter around by himself for hours on end, appearing when he needed to be walked or fed. Liz had teased that he was more cat than dog in the respect. He was also completely useless as a guard dog, his first instinct being to hide, not fight. Still, if there was one thing Hudson was good at, it was sensing when he was needed.

"Come on, boy," Hudson followed Tom out into their enclosed backyard. Tom sat in one of the two chairs that had been set up so he and Liz could enjoy the warm weather. Spring had been dragging its feet this year, but things finally seem to be changing to the better. It was a shame he wouldn't have much longer to appreciate it. Tom set his laptop down on the small table next to him and tracked Liz's progress through the streets of D.C.

Hudson wandered over and sat beside him, patiently waiting to be petted. Tom obliged. Stroking Hudson's fur was soothing; it help him to detangle the mess of thoughts that cluttered his brain. He'd reported Craig's death to his handler and told her that Reddington had been acting alone and that "Mockingbird" was still in the dark. A team had been dispatched to contain the situation. No news outlets would run the story, police reports would be falsified, and everything related to "Craig" would be removed from the hotel's records. A fair chunk of time and money would be spent on the cover-up, all to prevent Liz from learning something she almost certainly knew.

Liz was working with Reddington. The longer he'd thought about Craig's death, the more certain he was that she was involved somehow. Liz was investigating him and she hadn't turn to the FBI for help, so it only made sense she would go to someone else. Reddington had resources and Tom imagined he was only too willing to swept in and play the hero for her. The thought made Tom sick to his stomach.

He'd made a mistake, waiting to tell Liz the truth. He should have told her one year ago, after he'd had their fake passports made. Reddington hadn't been whispering in her ear then, and she might have believed him. Even if she hadn't been able to forgive him, she might have at least listened to him. He could have warned about Berlin and about Reddington. He should have told her then, but he hadn't.

He'd told himself that he had time that he could wait until their baby arrived. He'd told himself that if they shared a child, she be more likely to listen to him. He'd been lying to himself. The truth of it was that he'd thought having a family with her would mean that he'd get to stay. He and Liz would have been irrevocably connected through that tiny innocent being. He could have argued that she needed him, to protect their infant. What mother would refuse protection for her child? It had been stupid and selfish and now he was paying the price.

Tom glanced at his screen and saw that Liz had arrived at the house. He closed the program and shut his laptop. He looked down at Hudson.

"Stay." Tom slipped into the house and dropped his computer off on his desk. He could hear movement in the dining room. What was she up to? He moved silently towards the noise until he was standing in the living room, watching Liz re-assemble Ike's base. She'd found the key. Tom moved to where he'd be hidden from view if she glanced backward. About ten second later Liz moved back into view, her back to him as she returned what he assumed were her tools into her bag. He started walking toward her.

"Hey." To her credit, she didn't jump, although her mannequin-like smile was less than convincing.

"Hey babe. You know I was thinking, it was so good to see your brother again…so I left him a message. I thought we could have dinner before he left and I never heard back." Craig had plunged to his death hours ago and she was going to stand here and bullshit with him about it? Tom had to hand it to her, her poker face may have sucked, but she unquestionably had balls.

"Oh, you know what, he called, said he had to catch the red-eye back. I think, work, I guess." Liz seemed almost surprised by his answer. Had she expected him to say? That Craig won't be available for dinner because he dived head first out of a sixth story window?

"He just left? Never even said goodbye?" Well she would know better than he would.

"Yeah. Classic Craig, right?" Liz managed to summon an expression of amusement.

"Honestly, could the two of you be less alike?" She smiled and moved to walk past him, clearly eager to escape his presence. He caught her wrist.

"Stop." The game needed to end. He needed to break through the ice somehow, get her to confront him. He needed to push her to her breaking point, "We're newly-weds." He gently put his hand on her shoulder and waited. She didn't turn, but he could feeling the muscles in her shoulder tighten. His touch had done that. How had he let it get this far, that she couldn't bare his touch?

Liz turned slowly to face him. For once he couldn't read her expression. Tom looked into her eyes and willed her to admit that she knew. Instead Liz removed her jacket. She was really going to do this? He reached out and stroked her check, watched her fight to keep the smile on her face. He kissed her and it was just as it has been when they renewed their vows. Physically nothing had changed, but the experience couldn't have been more different from every other kiss they'd ever shared.

He guided her slowly toward the bedroom, waiting for the resistance, waiting for her to slap him, to shove him away. Praying it would happened. Praying he won't have to go through with this. He couldn't imagine what this felt like to her. No, he didn't WANT to imagine it. Even before he'd loved Liz, sex with her had never felt…unclean. There'd been guilt afterwards, but during had always been about making her happy. This…this felt uncomfortably close to rape. It didn't matter that she wasn't saying no, it didn't matter that she was kissing him back. She didn't want him. She didn't want to do this.

He could stop. But if he did, then what? Liz had chosen this, chosen to sleep with someone she hated, rather than admit to what she knew. She didn't trust him enough to confront him. No matter what he said, it wouldn't make difference. She belonged to Reddington now.

If he pulled back now, he'd need to leave, immediately, and he couldn't do that, not yet. He needed time to figure out a way to separate her from Reddington. He needed to expose the monster before he consumed Liz and everything that she was. Yet again Tom needed to do something bad to spare his wife from something far worse. He wondered if Liz could see into his heart at this moment, if she would forgive him for what he was about to do. One thing was certain, he'd never forgive himself.


	12. Pavlovich Brothers Part 1

Tom closed his eyes as he listened to the soothing tune of the music box. The sound was incredible. The box itself was a masterpiece, ornate and polished. It had to be at least a half a century old, but it was in pristine condition. Tom estimated the box was worth a few thousand dollars at least. It was an incredible piece of craftsmanship and yet he wanted to smash it to smithereens. The destructive impluse had nothing to do with the music box itself, and everything to do with who must have given it to Liz.

He'd found the box hidden down in the basement, when he himself had been stashing the photographs that had been delivered to him last night. He could have brought the music box upstairs then, but he'd decided to wait until everything was in place. Now everything was.

He'd deposited the photographs in the vault and removed the money and the passports. If, by some miracle, the evening went the way he hoped, their go bag was safely stashed in a locker at the train station. He and Liz could be in another country, starting a new by this time tomorrow night. If, on the other hand, this went the way he expected it to, then at least he'd ensured that Reddington wouldn't be able to manipulate Liz any longer.

Tom looked around the dining room. He lived in this house for only a year, and yet it was the closest thing to a home that he'd had in his adult life. One way or another, after tonight he would never see it again. If it hadn't been for this afternoon he might have been able to postpone this climax, but Liz had made that impossible. She's disrupted a drop and news of that would eventually make its way back to Berlin.

It was his fault, he should have realized that she snuck a tracker into his key fob. He'd thought something was off this morning, but he'd reasoned that everything had felt off for the past few weeks. It was just as well, he didn't know how much longer he could have kept up appearances, listening to Liz lie to him, watching her fake her way through their marriage.

The worst part was knowing what this had to be doing to her. It was like shaking a bottle of soda: the pressure was building inside and eventually the cap would have to come off. Tom was anticipating quite an explosion. He sipped his wine to help calm his nerves.

Tom's eyes fell on the photograph sitting on the end table. He picked it up and stared at it. It was from their trip to Boston. Liz had stopped a fellow tourist and asked if she would snap a picture of them posed by the water. His arm was around Liz and she was laughing at something that he'd said. For the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was. He remember her laughter, though. It had filled him with such pride, knowing that he had that ability to bring forth that sound. It was enough to make him believe, just for a moment, that maybe there was a higher power, that maybe there was a reason he had been put on this earth, and it hadn't been to kill or to lie, that maybe the reason for his existence was to make Liz laugh, and to bring her the joy she so richly deserved. It was a foolish musing, but sometimes even people like him needed to tell themselves fairytales.

"Tom?" Liz was home. He set the photograph back where he found it. "Tom?"

"I'm in the dining room." Liz walked in and immediately zeroed in on the music box, just as he knew she would.

"Where'd you get that thing?" She was getting better this, better at lying to him. She sounded completely natural, as though she hadn't been hiding the gift from him. Part of him regretted her adaption, and part of him was perversely proud of her growing skill.

"I was going to ask you the same thing. I found it in the basement." It couldn't have been there long, it was in too good a condition. He wondered why Reddington had given it to her.

"That's where that was. I've been looking for it. My father gave it to me." Did that mean she knew the truth or did she believe she was lying to him? He couldn't tell anymore.

"That's beautiful. It's in great condition too, looks almost new. Why haven't I seen this before?" A little bit of honesty, that was all he wanted. A crack in the wall of lies that she was using to keep him at bay.

"Your pot is going to boil over. You're cooking? I thought we were going out for Thai." Again he admired her evasion, but hated being pushed away.

"Yeah, I just thought it might be nice to stay home. Alone. Just you and me." That was what this was all about, them. If she could just be in this room with him, without the phantoms of Reddington and Berlin overhead, then maybe he could know once and for all, if there was still a "them". Tom poured a glass of wine.

"How was your day?" Tom had thought long and hard about how to answer this fairly standard inquiry. He wanted to maintain his "cover" while still letting her know that she'd been seen.

"Exhausting," Tom passed her the wine. "Billy Salter, he was acting up again. His mom keeps packing him these Fruit Rollups and they give him this satanic sugar high" He paused and looked up at her carefully gauging her reaction, "Oh, I did stop by the National Archives, just to book a field trip for the kids. It's funny, I could have sworn that I saw you there. There was a woman and she looked just like you." He couldn't be any more obvious without mouthing the words "I KNOW".

"Ah, no. I wish. I was cooped up in the office all day." So there was his answer. In Liz's eyes, he wasn't her husband anymore, he was the enemy.

"Yeah…Should have known." He had known. He knew Liz too well to doubt how this would end. The glimmer of hope had been a cruel mirage. "Well whoever she was, she could have been half as beautiful as you are right now." He came around the counter and kissed her for the last time. He pretended not to notice that her lips were stiff beneath his.

"Uhh…keep stirring. I'm going to walk the dog." As he called the dog he found himself trying to recall the last time Liz has kissed him, really kissed him. He hooked the leash onto Hudson's collar, grabbed his jacket, and stopped to take one last look at the cold statue that had formerly been his wife. It had to have been weeks ago, before she'd known the truth about him. Suddenly he recalled the memory. It was the morning Detective Dabarros had visited them about Jolene's disappearance. The detective had left and Liz had been rushing off to work. She'd been almost out the door when she'd stopped, turned and kissed him. He'd been taken by surprise, because he'd been so distracted by his worries about Jolene. He hadn't even had time to enjoy it before she's rushed off. That was their last kiss, the last real kiss he would ever get from the woman he loved.

"What?" He realized he was staring at Liz. He wondered if she'd seen the pain in his eyes. Probably not. After all monsters didn't feel pain, and that what he was to her now, a monster.

"Nothing." She'd never know how much this hurt him, how much he wanted to stay. He couldn't look at her. If he met her eyes, he would never be able to make it out that door. "Love you. Be right back." He ushered Hudson through the first door, trying not to think too hard about the last lie he would ever tell his wife. What should he do with Hudson? The smart play would be to take the dog. It would take Liz much longer to realize he had gone if she believed he'd really taken the dog for a walk. Of course, that would also mean robbing Liz of the only part of their shared life that she would miss. Screw the smart play. He had done enough to Liz without taking her last bit of emotional support. He let go of the leash and slipped out the front door, leaving Hudson trapped in the space between the house and the stoop.

He ran to his car and drove away, leaving Tom Keen's life behind him. He left the car in a public lot. Liz would be able to track it down later. It was time to dispose of his cell. He spotted a post standing directly between him and the payphone that was his destination. Convenient. He smashed his phone hard on the decorative cap, then he smashed down again. When he was finished he dismantled the remaining pieces and tossed them on the ground. He reached the payphone and dialed his handler. After rattling off the SOP, he waited for the order to proceed.

"Mockingbird knows, requesting immediate evac. She knows." He hung up and yanked the car keys out of his pocket. He remove the fob and threw on the sidewalk and stomped hard and ground with his heel. After he was satisfied that he'd destroyed the tracker he started striding toward the location of the payphone that corresponded with the phone he'd just used. In a few hours he'd get a call telling him where to go to meet his evacuation team. His destination was a few miles away. He could steal a car, but what would be the point? They wouldn't be ready for at least two hours and he'd rather be walking than sitting around on a park bench.

Maybe he'd get lucky and be attacked by muggers. If he was REALLY lucky he might meet a rapist or a serial killer. He didn't care really what kind of human scum fate delivered him, he just wanted someone to hit, someone to dole physical punishment out to. Smashing his electronic devices hadn't given him quite the cathartic release he was looking for.

What was Liz doing right now? Had she called the FBI? Had she called Reddington? Was she breaking things in their house? Was she crying? Or was she just sleeping, glad that charade was all over.

He needed to stop thinking about this. After he was out of the city, he'd call and tell her about the key and then report back to Berlin for his orders. The war was about to start in earnest and he needed to be ready.


	13. Pavlovich Brothers Part 2

Twelve hours ago Tom had been sure he'd never see his house again and now he was being zip tied to his kitchen chair. When he'd surrendered to the Serbians, Tom had assumed he'd be brought to a warehouse where Reddington would be waiting with tray full of torture instruments and a smile. He had not expected to be hog tied and delivered back to his former residence.

Tom's eyes followed the four mercenaries as they made themselves at home in the dining room and kitchen. They were blunt instruments, but they were also effective, and deadly. The clean shaven one with the long hair seemed to be the leader. He'd be the one Tom would need to kill first, if he managed to get himself free. The mercenary smiled cruelly at him, as though he was reading Tom's thoughts and found them amusing. He stood and walked around the counter where Liz had left the wine bottle and glass from last night. As the criminal helped himself to the beverage, he addressed Tom.

"We thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Keen. You have a lovely home." The Serbian raised his glass in a mock toast. His captor sipped his wined, then paused, his attention caught by something behind Tom's head. He strolled past Tom, and when he returned he was holding a photograph of Liz. "This is your wife, yes? Did you know we have met before, your wife and I, although the circumstances were not…how you say…congenial. Perhaps she will overlook this, now that my brothers and I have brought her you." The Serbian paused, one finger stroking the glass, a somewhat greedy expression in his eyes. "She is a beauty and she is filled with fire. Makes for great bed sport, yes?" The duct tape covering his mouth prevented Tom from verbal expressing his rage, but if looks could kill, the Serbian would have spontaneously combusted.

The mercenary laughed at Tom's murderous glare, and returned the photograph to its spot on the end table. When he was finished he settled back into his chair and peered at Tom over the cusp of his wine glass. "I wonder what you have done to make her so angry with you. Forget your anniversary, perhaps?" The other men laughed at their leader's wit. Suddenly one of them stopped and nodded at his comrade.

"Ah, our hostess has arrived." Liz was here? Did she know what Reddington had done on her behalf? Did she ask Reddington to deliver him to her, trussed up like a turkey?

"Reddington, I need you to call me please. I need some help with the case." Tom heard her voice down the hall, and then heard her hang up, presumably after catching sight of one of his abductors.

"A gift from Reddington. Enjoy." Liz's footsteps silently approached him and he turned to look at her, uncertain of what he was going see in her face. She looked uneasy, like processing him, and the four criminals lounging in there house was too much for her to compute all at once. Tom looked away, focusing instead on his abductors. The leader took a final swig of his wine, set down the glass and led his team out. He and Liz were alone.

Liz came around the table until she was standing directly in front of him. She didn't say anything, she just looked at him. He averted his eyes off to the left. It wasn't lost on him that not too long ago he had wanted her to confront him about what she knew. This was different. This wasn't a couple airing their secrets, this was a prisoner and his interrogator. Their new dynamic couldn't have been any clearer whenm without warning, Liz ripped the duct tape off his mouth. It wasn't the pain that bothered him so much as the anger behind the action. She didn't care if she hurt him. He was her hostage, not her husband. Liz removed her jacket and set her phone on the table between them. He could feel the fury radiating off her.

"Two years, wasted. Two years we spent…on what? Do you care at all what you've done to me? What you've done to my life?" He continued to avoid her eyes. Nothing he could say would appease her, and he didn't want to see evidence of the hurt he'd caused. "What has it done to you? Who would do such a thing? Finding you. Stopping you. You'd think I'd be happy you're going to spend the rest of your life in prison," The word 'prison' caused him to finally look at her. Did she really think that Reddington was going to let the FBI have him? The only way he would live through the next 24 hours was if he escaped his present predicament. "You'd think I'd get some kind of satisfaction out of that, but I don't. Because NOTHING…no sentence, no punishment, no REVENGE, could ever come close to making up for what you've done." There was no point in apologizing to her now. There was no point in telling her that he loved her. She would never believe it. If he was going to get through this he needed to adopt a persona that she would believe.

"I was doing my job." That was good; cold, hardened, and impersonal.

"Your JOB?! That was our life! We were going to have a BABY. You BEGGED ME to have a baby-" He felt like he was going to be sick, but the façade had to hold.

"I was doing my job." He remembered the ache in his chest when she'd told him the adoption was off. He hadn't realized how much he'd wanted to be a father until it was snatched away from him.

"Stop talking about YOUR JOB! You! This! Everything was a lie! My life was a lie! Every feeling! Every memory! Say something to your WIFE who is dying in front. Say something!" The temptation to tell her the truth was overwhelming. Her eyes pleaded with him to give her something, anything about their lives that was real, that she could hold on to. Of course, if he gave that to her, she'd just accuse him of playing her. She'd turn him over to Reddington and that would be the end of him. He needed to survive this, if only so he could save her from the international criminal that had wormed his way into her affections. If he was going to escape he'd need Liz to make a mistake. He needed to make her emotional. He needed to break her heart, even more than he already had.

"It was the shoes." He'd use the memory of their first night together. He'd take that moment and he would twist it, use it as a weapon to inflict pain.

"What does that mean?" Tom reminded himself to be cold, to be the killer. It was easier said than done. Killing Jolene and the cowboy had been nothing compared to this. Hurting Liz went against every instinct in his entire being. It was agony, and he had to do it with a smile on his face.

"That's when I knew. It was those brown leather shoes. It was our, third, maybe fourth date. You'd come over to my place on Halastead and we ordered and rented a movie that we never finished because we ended up…and you had to get up early for work, and by the time I got up you were gone. I remember standing in the closet, half-dressed, reaching for my shoe when I saw you'd drawn this little heart in the dust on my shoe. You remember that?" Liz nodded unable to speak. It was time to twist the knife, "It was the sweetest thing. And ever since that moment I just felt…" The words caught it his throat. He forced them out, "Sorry for you. Because I knew that I had you. Part of me didn't want it to work. But it did." Looking at Liz, watching her accept that he felt nothing for her but pity, made Tom wonder if being tortured to death by Reddington wouldn't be preferable to this.

Liz stood up and walked behind him. He couldn't see her, but he could hear her breathing. She was digesting the poison he'd just fed her and she didn't want him to watch. Suddenly Liz's phone started buzzing.

"What are you going to tell them?" He recalled the message he'd heard her leaving Reddington. There was a case she was supposed to be working and the FBI apparently wasn't aware she was a running this "side project" with Reddington.

"Hey, what's going on? Where are we on Cho Ping Lee?...Waiting on Reddington. He still hasn't shown." He needed to get out of here before this got any uglier than it already had. He been working the zip ties around his feet and he was reasonably sure he could slip them if he just got his hands free. If he could shake the table enough to get the coffee cup, then he could break it, and use a shard to cut himself free…

"I will be, just as soon as…I'm going to have to call you back." Liz returned and snatched the cup off the table.

"Nice try." She seemed to have regained her composure. The call from the Post Office had probably helped, putting her back in Agent mode.

"I was thirsty." This was easier, now that she was no longer talking to him like a betrayed wife. She walked away for him again, seemingly to place another phone call. Given the snippets he'd caught from the first call, he could only assume this call would be to Reddington. Tom was curious, despite himself. He'd never witnessed Liz and Reddington interacting. He knew that she saw him almost every day; that they had some kind of bond, but he'd never been able to picture the two of them together, his kind, loving wife, and the smooth-talking monster in a fedora.

"Where is she?...Cho Ping Lee. You took her. You used the FBI and the Palvovich Brothers to get Tom and what? Get Cho Ping? Make some bigger deal? Trade on her secrets?" Tom was happy to hear Liz questioning Reddington's motives. It didn't sound like she was completely under his sway. It wasn't too late to save her from him. "Where is she?...If we don't find her, if she gets sent back to the Chinese, she's going to die." That was less encouraging. Liz was trying to appeal to Reddington's better nature, implying she thought he had one, "We think they are putting her on a cargo ship. We don't know. We're looking over manifests, timetables and shipping routes." There was a pause and then a beep as she hung up. Reddington must have given her what she wanted to know. Tom didn't realize how much he envied Reddington until that moment. He was free to act like criminal he really was, and simultaneously be a part of Liz's life. Actually, now that Reddington had succeeded in exposing "Tom Keen", Reddington effectively was life. He was her confidant, her protector, and her family. Reddington probably thought that he had won the war for Liz's trust that had been silently raging for months. Little did he know the surprise Tom had in store for him.

"What is his obsession with you? You guys got a daddy-daughter thing going on?" Her face didn't flicker when he'd mentioned 'daddy'. She still didn't know. For whatever the reason, Reddington hadn't told her. "What's your plan? Is daddy coming over? Is he going to make me talk?" Would Liz stay and watch as her guardian devil tortured him? Would her presence offer him any kind of protection?

"No, he's not. I am." Liz's response was…unexpected. Was she bluffing? She didn't looked like she was bluffing. Liz sat down in the chair across from him, and dialed a number on her phone.

"Ressler, it's me. Reddington says to check with a man named 'Rolf Cisco'. He works at the docks and knows about all the smuggling taking place there. He'll had the information we need…Yeah I'll be there as soon as I can. Good luck." She hung up and looked at him impartially. It was as though a switch had been flipped, and Lizzie, his heart-broken wife was gone. In her place was the calm and collected Agent Elizabeth Keen.

"Who do you work for?" He couldn't tell her anything, not like this. He couldn't risk it, not without knowing he'd be able to protect his family, if his betrayal made its way back to Berlin.

"I have nothing to say." Liz nodded, stood up, and went to the drawer where they kept their tools. She pulled out a wretch and walked back over to him. She put the clamp around his thumb.

"Who do you work for?" She couldn't be serious. The very fact that she'd picked his thumb of all his fingers, proved that she was not torturer material.

"Liz, come on. You don't have it in you." The words had barely escaped his mouth before heard the crack of bone. He yelled in pain. She didn't stop for a full thirty seconds, then she returned to her chair and stared at him with a pleasant expression on her face. She didn't look remotely phased by the act of violence she had committed.

"You broke my thumb." Either Reddington was having a greater influence on Liz than he realized, or he hadn't been the only one in their marriage concealing a dark side.

"Yeah, I did. If you're looking for sympathy, you might want to try honesty. Here's an example of honesty, Tom: You've been making me pancakes for two years? I hate pancakes." It was time to end this mess of an interrogation.

"You want honesty? Here's one. If you going to handcuff somebody, don't break their thumb!" As Tom spoke his last word, he ripped his right hand free of the tie and flipped himself and the chair over the table. Liz dove out of the way, but not fast enough to avoid being clipped. He swung the chair and knocked her to the ground. Liz scrambled into the dining room, and he followed while working to free himself from the second tie. He slipped out just in time use the chair to block a blow from Ike. He threw the chair aside, using it to pull the lamp out of Liz's hands.

Tom sent his wife flying backward with a kick to the stomach, then ran over to grab her arms. Liz wretched away from his grasp and he tripped. When he regained his balance he chased after her, dodging a bookcase Liz had pushed over on him. She sprinted for her gun and he was right behind her. He knocked the weapon out of her hands and it went skidding across the floor.

Liz elbowed him in the head, and kneed him in gut, and followed up with another crack across his skull. His vision was still swimming as he flipped her over his shoulder and into a table. She was down for less than a second before she was back scrambling for the loose gun. Fortunately he got there first. He trained it on Liz.

"Your handcuffs. One on the wrist, one on the banister. Do it." He watched closely as she secured herself to staircase. He was going to be bruised from head to toe tomorrow. Liz may not have had his training, but she'd come at him with everything she had. She'd fought with her heart, the heart that he'd broken. Pangs of remorse shot through him. How could he make her understand that this, the way she saw him now, wasn't who he was? "I am not here to hurt you, Liz. My job was never to hurt you. I'm one of the good guys. Reddington? He's not who you think." He might not have been a saint, but compared to Reddington he was a choirboy.

"I will find you." She wasn't hearing him. Fortunately he'd been prepared for that.

"I can prove it. The key, in the lamp? I know you found it. Take it to Radford Bank, box number 3929. He is not who you think he is." There was so much more that he wanted to say to her, but they were way past the point where she'd be willing to listen. Not that he blamed her. Who would believe a declaration of love from a man holding them at gunpoint? "Goodbye, Liz."

That was the second the time he'd fled the house that had been his home. It hadn't been any easier the second time around, but it did feel more final. He hadn't just burned his bridge with Liz, he'd torpedoed it. The last memory she'd have of him was his sticking a gun in her face, her service weapon, to be precise. How would she explain losing the gun to her bosses? Would she come clean about what she'd done? Would she be suspended for going rogue? Somehow he doubted it.

The FBI seemed remarkably willing to bend the rules when it came to giving Raymond Reddington what he wanted, and what he wanted was Liz. They'd allowed the man the latitude to place Liz in dozens of high risk situations and Liz herself had yet to refuse. The parting gift he'd given to Liz would change that.

Once Liz saw the contents of that envelope, Reddington would be lucky if she didn't come after his fingers. She wouldn't work with him again, knowing what he'd done to her. The FBI would almost certainly press the issue, but he knew Liz. She wouldn't stomach the level of betrayal, especially not now. She would quit the FBI before she agreed to breathe the same air as Reddington. Tom had no idea what would happen to her afterwards, but whatever it was, it would be better than whatever her life would be if she stayed.

Maybe she'd go back to school, get her doctorate, and become a college professor. Maybe she'd marry again, this time to someone who could be honest with her, someone who could be a father to her child. Maybe she'd finally get the happy, normal life she deserved. Maybe.


	14. Berlin: Conclusion

Tom was parked only a hundred feet from Liz's car, waiting for her to leave the hospital. She was currently visiting Harold Cooper. Tom had done research on every member of Liz's task force. He knew Agent Cooper was a relatively honest member of the FBI. He knew the Cooper had a wife and children. Now the man was dying and Tom was at least partially responsible. He'd provided the list of names to Berlin's mobster asset, who had happily gone to work crossing them off one by one.

This wouldn't be happening if Liz had just done what he'd expected her to do. Without Liz, Reddington would never have honored his agreement and the task force would have been dissolved without any bloodshed. Why hadn't she left him? Reddington killed Sam, the person she'd loved most in the world and yet she'd gone back to him. The only explanation Tom could think of was that her instincts knew what her mind didn't. Somewhere in her bones, she knew Reddington was her biological father.

Liz exited the hospital and slowly made her way to her car. Tom slouched low in his seat, but it turned out to be a unnecessary precaution. Liz wasn't being vigilant by any stretch of the imagination. She was walking in a fog, alone, completely unprotected. If Tom had been a bratva hitman and had orders to kill her, she would be dead in less than three seconds. Fortunately for Liz, neither or those things were true.

Berlin wanted Liz alive. Tom wasn't 100% certain why, but he was confident it was connected to the scar on Liz's wrist. Berlin believed Liz belonged to him. Right now Tom was grateful for the fact because it would keep Liz safe until Tom had the opportunity to do what needed to be done. He' had time to think over the few weeks and he'd realised that been fooling himself when he'd imagined running away with Liz.

As long as Berlin and Reddington were out there, they would never stop searching for her. To hide from one of the master criminals would require an extraordinary amount of luck, to hide from both of them would be impossible. There was only one solution: he would have to kill Reddington and Berlin. It was the only way Liz would ever be free. Unfortunately the only way to do that was by using the one thing that they both wanted so badly.

Liz got into her car, just as Tom exited his. He moved swiftly, staying low out of Liz's eye line. In under ten seconds he reached the passenger side door. He yanked the door open and slid in with gun trained on Liz.

"Hey, babe." Liz said nothing in response, she just stared at him, her red-rimmed eyes bright with hatred. He couldn't exactly blame her. "Start the car." Liz paused a long second before complying, turning her eyes away from him as she pulled out of her space and drove down the street.

He gave Liz short, clipped directions to the warehouse, which she obeyed without comment. He found himself longing for her to scream at him, to hurl insults, to do anything to break the oppressive silence.

Tom saw the bodies the second the car turned into the street. Reddington had found the warehouse. Tom suddenly found himself facing two options: take Liz elsewhere and notify Berlin, or corner Reddington now and cross off one of the two major threats to Liz's safety. He calculated the risks and decided the opportunity was too good to pass up.

He walked Liz through the warehouse at gunpoint, making a mental note of all the corpses Reddington had left in his wake. Tom had been following Reddington long enough to know how dangerous he was but seeing it first hand was useful reminder. Reddington was a ruthless, efficient killer and must never be underestimated.

He nudged Liz into the back room. Reddington had the mobster tied to a chair. Clearly he'd been interrogating him. "Slide it. Slide the gun now." Tom could shoot him now, but if he did Reddington might involuntarily pull the trigger and hit Liz. Reddington needed to drop his weapon, then he would put the son of a bitch down.

"No." No? That had not been the answer he'd been expecting. "Are you hurt?" How dare he act concerned. If Reddington really gave a damn he would have done as he was asked. Unless Reddington didn't believe Liz was in danger. Was that possible? If Reddington knew the truth, then Tom was truly fucked. He'd have no leverage and without leverage he wouldn't be leaving this room alive.

"Do it! Kill her!" Tom needed to make Reddington believe he was serious, to believe he was truly a threat to his daughter's life. "Pull the trigger! Do it!" Tom put the muzzle of the gun to Liz's head. The mobster continued to screech in his ears, ordering Tom to murder his wife, but he had eyes only for Reddington. As they stared each other down Tom couldn't help but noticed that Reddington had Liz's eyes. They were older and colder, but there was undoubtedly a resemblance.

"Don't do it. Tom…" Liz sounded so scared. Reddington may not believe that he was capable of killing her, but Liz most certainly did. It was almost enough to make him want to toss the gun, and throw himself on Reddington's dubious mercy.

"Shut up! This man he take everything from me! For nothing! For what? Business! He snaps his fingers and my life is nothing-" With one bullet Reddington removed the background noise.

"Well that simplifies matters. Just the three of us." The older man spread his arms, not dropping the gun, but no longer pointing it at Tom. "Put the gun down before you do something you'll deeply regret." Reddington did know, he had to, otherwise why would he be talking to Tom like this? "I'm the one you want. Make the right choice Tom." The right decision? Tom wasn't so sure he knew what that was anymore. The plan had been to use Liz to get to Berlin, but what if he could use Reddington instead? "But make it fast, because when I get over there, I'm going to take that gun away from you." With Reddington approaching he made the split second call to incapacitate the criminal by winging him in the arm. He barely had time to pull the trigger before Liz threw her weight back into him, throwing him against the wall. Her forearm smashed across his face, causing him to loss his grip on the gun. He and Liz wrestled for possession and then there was a deafening bang.

Pain shot throw his stomach. He stumbled back into the wall, all the while his eyes riveted on Liz's face. Horror was written across her beautiful feature, horror at what she's done to him. He instinctively stepped toward her. Bang. Bang. She'd shot him twice more.

He once again fell back against the wall, but this time he knew there would be no getting up. He was dead. Liz, the person he loved most in the world, had killed him. Reddington strode forward and put a gun to his head. Tom glared up at the man who had ruined his life.

"No!" Liz's exclamation took him by surprise. Despite the rapid coldness spreading his extremities, he felt a flicker of something warm in his chest.

"We can't leave him alive." Of course Reddington wanted him dead. It didn't matter that he knew that Tom would never have harmed Lizzie. Tom knew too many of his secrets.

"I'll finish it. This is between us." Lizzie's voice was cool and impartial, completely at odds with her plea for his life. Had her early outcry been mere instinct, and this was her more considered response?

"Do it quickly. I'll be waiting outside." The second Reddington left the room Liz threw her gun away and dropped to her knees. She gently held a hand to his stomach, her face an unspoken testimony of remorse. Despite everything he'd done, she didn't want him to die. That fact was unquestionably the best gift he had ever received.

"I'm sorry." The words were so paltry, so insufficient to communicate the agony he felt over what he'd done, but as the life drained from him it was the best he could manage. Liz gave the smallest of nods. She forgave him. It was far more than he deserved. He needed to give her something in return, something she'd always wanted, but no one, not him, not Reddington, not Sam ever gave her: the truth. He opened his mouth, but found he didn't have the strength to force out the words.

"What?" Liz leaned into him and Tom tried again with the last bit of energy that he possessed_. Your father's alive. It's Reddington._ _I love you_. Tom felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, unsure how much, if any of his final thoughts had reached Liz's ears. He supposed it no longer mattered. He knew Liz would stay with him and in the end that was enough…

**Author's note: And so ends my season one take on Tom Keen.** **I went back and made a couple of adjustments to earlier chapters, based on what was revealed in the finale. For the record I 100% believe Tom is alive and kicking thanks to Liz. Anyway, thanks for sticking with the story and here's to hoping for a Tom and Liz filled Season 2!**


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